A Drumming Noise Inside My Head
by Casteline
Summary: Stiles has been in a coma for over a week, and there's only one way Derek can save him. Sterek.


_This ended up a lot darker than I anticipated. I also intended for it to have more of a happy ending. Which is not to say that it's a sad ending. Bittersweet, perhaps. But I still like it.  
_

_EDIT: Oh my gosh I am SO sorry. I had two fics in my floder and accidentally uploaded the wrong. SO SORRY. Here is the right one._

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**A Drumming Noise Inside My Head (It Starts When You're Around)**

It was quiet in his head. Empty. Lonely. And the longer he sat alone in the burned remains of his childhood home, the harder it was to deal with the silence, the more it got to him.

He didn't hear anyone approaching, didn't know someone was there until there was a knock at the door, jarring him from the pushups he'd hoped would clear his mind. Or rather, fill it. He didn't know who it was until he pulls the door open.

"Stiles," he said. There are a million other things he felt like saying, starting with 'what are you doing here?' and 'go home' and 'are you okay?', but he was too tired for any of that.

"You look like crap," Stiles said.

Stiles didn't look to great either, and Derek didn't hesitate to tell him.

"Yeah, well," Stiles says. "Being in a magically induced coma will do that to you."

"You shouldn't be here," Derek told him.

"Lydia told me what you did."

Derek clenches his jaw and his grip on the door should be enough to break it. Should be, but isn't. Not anymore. "She needs to learn to keep her mouth shut."

"You really think I was never going to find out? How exactly did you plan to keep this a secret?"

"I-" Derek started, but stopped, biting the inside of his lip. He shook his head, hanging it in surrender. "I don't know." He felt so tired

"God, you're an idiot. What possible stroke of insanity could have led you to take that kind of deal?"

"We were running out of time. We didn't have any other options." He was getting impatient. He had always kind of wondered if it was the wolf part of him that had a short temper, but no, apparently, like everything else, that was all of him. The wolf had been woven into every part of him. Without it, he was a fraction of himself. He was still the same, yes, still angry and short tempered and alone. So, so _alone_. But he was tired and his skin itched and his head ached and nothing quite felt right. Colors were too dull, sounds too quiet. And he was alone.

"So you just let her take your wolf? How did that seem like a good plan?"

"Don't you think we tried to find another way?! There _was_ nothing else. We had no choice!"

"You should have kept looking."

"You were dying! Do you not get that?"

Stiles shook his head. "Of course I do! What don't get is how you could sacrifice everything like that. For me? I'm not worth it."

Whatever response Stiles was expecting, it was not Derek's fist in his face followed by blood dripping from his nose, but that was exactly what he got.

"Because I love you, you idiot," Derek snarled. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger, to slow the rapid pounding of blood in his head and his heart. Stiles was holding his sleeve to his bleeding nose, his eyes wide with shock. Derek hadn't really meant to hurt him, but even without the wolf, he was stronger than he gave himself credit for. "The wolf is everything I am – was, everything that I _was_. But I can learn to live without it. I'll find a way. But you? If you had died? I don't think I could've… I couldn't live with that, knowing that you were dead and I could have saved you."

Stiles stared at him, silent, for a long time, before lowering his bloody sleeve and saying "You what?" His mouth hung open in shock, his mind reeling.

Derek turned his back on him. "You should leave."

"Yeah," Stiles said after a moment. Derek couldn't hear the shaking in his voice, this skip of his heart, the pounding in his head. "You're right. I should go."

"What did you say to Derek?" Lydia asked him the next day as they walked out of the school. Stiles was carrying a large, leather bound book and seemed to be more captivated by it than her.

"Nothing, why?"

"Because he's even crankier and broodier than usual."

Stiles narrowed his eyes are her. "Why have you been hanging out with him in the first place?"

Lydia shrugged. "After what happened… I think he needs company. And being surrounded by wolves… I don't know if that's best for him right now. And being alone certainly isn't. So you didn't say anything weird to him when you went to see him? You _did_ go see him, right?" Stiles didn't immediately answer. "Stiles?"

"Hmm? Sorry. I, um. I kind of have something to take care of. Can we talk about this later?"

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "What are you up to?"

"It's nothing, don't worry about it. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

Lydia was very curious, but didn't push the issue further. "Yeah, tomorrow."

That night, Stiles found himself wandering deep into the forest, alone and armed only with a jar of Mountain Ash and a dagger he'd borrowed from the Argent's collection.

"Oooh, it's the Stilinski boy again," an old voice cooed. It was a moment before the owner of the voice came out from behind a tree. Rather than the short, old woman he'd met a few weeks ago, the witch was young and tall. And beautiful, if not for the blackness of her soul. He voice changed to match her appearance when she spoke again. "I thought you learned your lesson during our last encounter."

"I've learned a lot, actually. It was never about me, was it? You only cursed me because you knew Derek would be give up his wolf to bring me back. You should have left town before I had the chance to figure it out, but I bet you were hoping you could catch one of the other wolves in your trap."

"I am surprised by how fast you found me out. I've only just set my trap for young Scott." She waved her hand and a mound of leaves behind her dematerialized into Allison's unconscious form.

"How long does it last?" Stiles asked. "I'm guessing one wolf, even an Alpha, doesn't give you more than, what, a few weeks of youth? How many would it take to satisfy you? Our whole pack?"

"Your pack is small," she said. "They will last me long enough to find the next one."

"Nah. They won't."

"You think you can stop me?" she said, laughing. "A little human boy? You're nothing."

"Ah. Well. You are a witch. Our pack is made of wolves and humans. But me? I don't know what I am. I have no idea what I'm capable of. So why don't we find out?" He threw a handful of Mountain Ash at her before she could react.

As the glittering black powder settled around her, she started to laugh. "Ha! Fairy dust? You think a little Mountain Ash can stop-" she stopped, unable to move. She frowned and struggled against the invisible force binding her.

"Huh. So that _does_ work."

"What have you done? How?!"

"You're the witch, you tell me," he said, stepping closer. He drew his dagger and sipped the tip into the bottle of Mountain Ash.

"What are you doing?"

"I have no idea," he said. "Does that scare you?" He drew the blade along her cheek, drawing a small amount of blood. "Now, he's how this is going to go. You're going to wake up Allison, and you're going to return Derek's wolf to him. If you don't, I will kill you."

"You'll kill me even if I do," she said, whimpering as he drew more blood, this time from her chest.

"I won't," he said.

"You're lying."

"You've got all the fancy wolf powers now, don't you? Listen to my heart. If you do as I say, I will not kill you."

She blink several times, listening closely to his heartbeat.

"Am I lying?"

"No."

"Then you'll do as I say?"

"Why should I? Even if you don't kill me, I'll be forced to live out the rest of my days as a miserable old woman."

"And if you don't, you will die a slow, painful death right here." He lifted his hand, still dusted with a fine layer of Mountain Ash, and imagined a rope around her throat. Within moments she was choking and gasping for air, though there was no visible signs of something constricting her airways.

"Okay!" she choked out when the pain because too unbearable. "I'll- do- it. Please-" The tightness lessened. "I'll do it. Just stop."

"Do it," Stiles said.

"I need you to release me first."

"No. You'll do it from there."

She started to argue, but it was fruitless. With an agitated sign, she closed her eyes and began to chant under her breath. A few minutes later, Allison sat up, gasping for air.

"Allison. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Stiles. What's going on?"

"Keep an eye on her," he said, passing Allison the blade. She kept it trained on the witch while Stiles fumbled through his pockets for his phone.

"Derek? Did it work?"

"_Did what- Stiles, what did you do?_"

"Did it work?" Stiles asked again. "Are you a wolf again?"

"_Yes, Stiles. What did you do?_"

He hung up the phone without answering.

"You'll let me go now," the witch said when he turned around again.

Stiles frowned. "Actually… we have a little problem. You took something from someone very important to me. And you tried to do it to my best friend. And I'm sure you've done it to others."

"You said you'd let me go," she said, snarling.

"Actually, he said he wouldn't kill you," Chris Argent said, appearing out of the trees, a gun trained on the witch.

"He's right you know," Stiles said, nodding. "And you held up your end of the deal, so I'll hold up mine. _But_… Well, you kidnapped the daughter of a hunter. And they're really good at holding grudges. I wonder what they'll do to you…" He shrugged and turned to walk away in a daze, while the Argents dealt with the witch.

He was halfway out of the forest when Derek found him.

"Stiles! Stiles, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Ding. Dong. The witch is… dead," he said, smiling strangely before passing out.

"Stiles!"

"Oww," Stiles groaned as he came to. He was in the passenger seat of his Jeep, with Derek driving. "Derek?"

"That was idiotic, what you did."

"No more so than what you did."

"You could have been seriously hurt."

"But I wasn't. I had a plan. You got your wolf back, didn't you? And I saved Allison. I call that a success."

"Yeah, you're a big damn hero," Derek said as they pulled into the Stilinski's driveway. "Just do me a favor and don't do something that stupid again."

"You said before that you loved me. Well, guess what, I feel the same. So no. No, I can't say that I won't do something that again. In fact, I've already made a habit of saving your life, so I think it's safe to say I won't be stopping anytime soon. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a throbbing headache."

"It's because you over exerted your magic," Derek said, staring unseeing out the window.

"Yeah, I figured as much. Now get out of my car and go home. Or whatever. I don't actually care what you do." Stiles got out of the car and stumbled. Derek was out of the car and at his side in the blink of an eye.

"Let me help you upstairs."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"I don't know a lot about magic," Derek said as they walked up the stairs, Stiles arm thrown over his shoulder. "I'm sure Deaton does. You should talk to him. And maybe Peter. They might be able to help you learn to use it without hurting yourself."

"I'll get right on that," Stiles said, falling into his bed, eyes closed.

"Do you need anything?"

Stiles made a sound of no, his eyes still closed in exhaustion.

"I'll stop by tomorrow to see how you're doing," Derek said, but it sounded almost like a question.

"Alright."


End file.
